


What the Storm Blew In

by DelightfullyDifficult



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan Supernatural Summer, F/M, Gen, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 06:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15382980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelightfullyDifficult/pseuds/DelightfullyDifficult
Summary: 50 years ago, Regina Mills founded the town of Storybrooke to be a sanctuary for supernatural creatures.  Witches, trolls, and all manner of creatures that go bump in the night live in semi-harmony, all under the watchful eye of werewolf Emma Swan.  Until a mysterious ship sails into port in the middle of a blizzard and Emma has to deal with the sexy Captain and unexpected consequences that came with it.





	What the Storm Blew In

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my contribution to the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! A huge thank you to theonceoverthinker for her amazing beta skills and kmomof4 for her encouragement. Lovely banner art by shady-swan-jones!!!!

\------------------------------------------------------------------

              Snow crunched under Emma’s boots as she jumped down from the cab of David’s truck.  She pulled her beanie further down - ensuring it covered her ears - as the wind tore the hood of her jacket from her head.  She grabbed the coils of rope from the bed of the truck and headed toward the focus of her attention. Right before her eyes was a tree that had crashed down across the powerlines that connected the west side of Storybrooke to the town’s power grid.

              “Didn’t we fix this last week?” Emma muttered as she trudged through the eight inches of snow that had fallen since the most recent nor’easter had made landfall on Maine’s coast.  

              “Last week’s was on the other side of town,” August’s said, his voice floating from somewhere in front of Emma.  Instinctively, Emma tried to pin down her friend’s location based on scent, but all she got was a nose full of snow.  

              Even if Emma had been able to smell anything, it would not have done her any good. August, no matter where he was, always smelled like a tree; what type of tree he’d smell like depended on his mood. Usually, he smelled like pine. It was a trait of his druid heritage, he had explained on the one and only date the two of them had gone on. She wasn’t entirely convinced that he had been completely honest with her. Once, when running in the forest that surrounded Storybrooke, she witnessed him turn into a maple tree.

              One moment he had been standing in a small patch of sunlight that had broken through the canopy of the forest and in the span of a blink of an eye, there was a tree in the exact same spot.  The event had been unexpected, but it was hardly the weirdest thing she had seen since moving to Storybrooke. The majority of the town’s population was otherworldly and not-entirely human individuals, and she was no exception.  

              Emma’s werewolf boyfriend had ‘accidentally’ bitten her when she was sixteen. Not long after, she’d found herself in police custody for possession of stolen goods and her lover nowhere to be found.  Thankfully, one of the officers that had been involved in her arrest had recognized Emma’s unique condition and had arranged for her to be sent to Storybrooke for ‘rehabilitation’ with a very special foster family.  

              Over a decade later and she was the town’s Sheriff. Sometimes, that job meant dealing with drunk fairies or barroom brawls between dwarfs, a wizard, and a troll, but most of the time it was the same work as other Sheriffs in rural Maine. Being a werewolf helped, though. It was almost a tradition for her to sniff out the rebellious teenagers drinking and smoking in the woods at the beginning of the summer.

              However, werewolf enhanced sense of smell or not, there was no way Emma could pinpoint August when surrounded by trees. Relying on her hearing instead, Emma followed the dull thud of an axe hitting wood.  She found August hacking at the base of the fallen tree; it had broken from the trunk about 10 feet from the side of the road. Her eyes darted to the electrical wires the tree had fallen across and breathed a sigh of relief to see that they were not live. She doubted August had bothered to confirm that the electricity to the area was off before starting work - not that she was sure a direct shock would do much damage to the man.  

              Emma dropped the rope on top of the tree and eyed it with distaste.  Not only had it taken out the power lines, but it was now situated across the main highway that ran in and out of town.  She sighed as she pulled some flares from her jacket and set them upright in piles of snow.  Though she didn’t expect anyone to be on the road in the middle of the night during a blizzard, it was better to be prepared.  They would move the tree off the road tonight, but Leroy and his team wouldn’t be out until the storm weakened to repair the power lines.  

              A car horn sounded and Emma jumped.  She yelled “Sorry” to David and got out of the way of the backend of his truck.  Once they had the fallen tree disconnected from its trunk, and the length of itself that was on the other side of the road, they would use the truck to drag the obstructing section of the tree to the side of the road.  After that, it would be left to either decay naturally or August would buy it off the town for his and his father’s woodshop.

              Truck in place, David hopped from the cab and trudged over, two axes on his shoulder.  “I think you should make a line of jewelry boxes from this tree,” he suggested to August.  The other man halted his chopping and gave the tree a contemplative look.  

              “Regina wants to redo her kitchen.  This is Black Cherry and would make some lovely cabinets,” August replied.  

              David looked at Emma and rolled his eyes.  Regina was not only the town’s mayor, but also its founder.  She had formed Storybrooke over 50 years ago to be a haven for the supernatural people and creatures in New England.  A powerful sorceress, she maintained the magical barrier that kept people away from the area.  Only those who already knew about the town were able to find it.  

              Emma’s son, Henry, called Regina the town’s Secret Keeper.  

              “I don’t think boxes of any kind would be a good idea.  They named this storm Pandora,” Emma informed David as he passed her an axe.  

              Her deputy laughed.  “Are you serious?  Who came up with this year’s list of names?”

              “People with a keen interest in Greco-Roman history,” Emma replied.  She held up her hand and lifted a finger as she listed off some of the other names on the list.  “We’ve already had Winter Storms Eris, Iola, Juno, and Neptune.  Next up is Quantum, which is latin, but after that is Remus and Sparta.”

              The three of them debated the wisdom of naming storms after gods and mythical beings as they chopped away at the tree.  Once they had a portion free and had removed most of the branches, Emma dropped her axe into the bed of the truck and grabbed a bottle of water from the cab.  She drank half of it before passing it to David and August.  

              Once they were all rehydrated, Emma crouched next to one end of the tree and lifted it a couple of inches off the ground.  David and August quickly looped the rope around the circumference of the tree and secured it to itself with a series of knots.  Emma dropped the end of the tree back into the snow as soon as they were done. While she was securing the ends of the rope to the hitch on the truck, she heard David let out a huff, a grunt, and, finally, a groan.  She looked back and saw that he was sitting near the end of the tree with a putout expression on his face.

              “He tried to lift it, didn’t he?” she asked August as he helped David to his feet.

              August nodded.  “He got it off the ground.”

              Impressed, Emma clapped David on the back.  David was one of the few completely human residents of Storybrooke, but more often than not, he could measure up in pure strength to some of his fellow townspeople. Emma knew she wouldn’t have been able to lift the tree even a smidge without the strength that being a werewolf gave her, and that just made David’s feat all the more remarkable.  

              “I’m sure Mary Margaret will be very impressed.  You may want to leave out the part about falling on your ass afterwards, though.”  

              David laughed and kicked at the tree.  

              “Then let’s get this log moved so I can go brag about my prowess to my lovely wife.”

              Mary Margaret, David’s wife and Emma’s foster sister, would be impressed.  After, she would brew a magically enhanced tea that could help with muscle pain, just in case her husband had strained a muscle trying to imitate a werewolf.  As an earth witch, Mary Margaret knew exactly how to combine nature’s gifts to solve nearly every ailment.  Her anti-nausea potions had been the only reason Emma had been functional during her pregnancy with Henry.

              David climbed into his truck and started the engine, but the tires had a hard time getting a grip on the road through the fresh snow.  Emma put her booted foot on the bumper and gave the truck a push until the tires found traction.  

              “I said you needed new snow tires,” Emma muttered to herself.  The 20-year-old truck was heavy, but even it could use some high-quality studded tires to deal with Maine’s winters.  David dragged the large log until it was parallel with the road.  Emma was removing the rope and preparing to push the log into the ditch alongside the road when David hollered from the car.

              “Emma!  Eric is on the radio! He says there is a ship coming into port!”

—

              “The ship’s name is the Jolly Roger? Really, over?” Emma said into the truck’s radio.

              David chuckled as he carefully guided the truck along Main Street.  

              The radio cracked as Eric replied, “That is what they said, over”

              “Did they happen to mention why they are out sailing during a blizzard, over?” Emma’s ‘like idiots’ was left unsaid but implied in her tone.

              “No Sheriff, over.”

              Emma sighed.  Storybrooke wasn’t equipped to stage a sea rescue if the ship didn’t make it into port safely: at least, not a traditional one that wouldn’t give away the special nature of the town’s inhabitants.  

              “Radio the Hermit and have him get the lighthouse going.  I don’t know how much good it will do in this weather, but I’d rather they not crash into the shore,” she said, before adding a belated “over.”

              “Already have, Sheriff, over.”

              “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Over and out.”

              Emma sighed.  A blizzard was bad enough.  She did not want to deal with possible humans arriving and becoming stranded due to the weather in the very not-human town.

              She looked down her cell phone.

              No signal.

              She was spared from having to call the mayor, in the middle of the night, and tell her about the unexpected ship coming into port for a little longer.

              Regina hated unexpected arrivals.  

              So did Emma.

              The town of Storybrooke and the surrounding woods were her pack’s territory.  And like their wild cousins, werewolves defended their territory against any interlopers.  They were the town’s second line of defense should anyone manage to get through Regina’s protective spells.  Not only did they patrol the woods on a regular basis, but they also knew the scents of everyone who lived in Storybrooke.  They would sniff out any newcomers or imposters.

              Given that - combined with her sense of duty as Sheriff - Emma could be a little overzealous about protecting her home.  However, it had been at least a year since she had growled, while human, at the few new arrivals that had come to town.  

              She was making progress.

              David eased the truck to a stop outside the Harbor Master’s office, positioning her door right with the path someone, probably Eric, had shovel a path to the door.  

              Inside the office, it was toasty warm and Emma immediately removed her hat, gloves, and coat.  Eric had the radio in one hand as he studied a map of the local coastline.

              “Keep on your current bearing as best you can and you should reach our harbor within the next 30 minutes, over,” Eric said into the radio.

              “Roger that, over and out,” the person on the other end replied.  Though the signal was full of static, Emma could pick up a hint of an accent in the male voice.  It sounded vaguely like the one from Newfoundland, but any sailors from that area would know better than to set sail when a blizzard as powerful as Pandora was on its way.

              Emma grabbed the handset of the phone that hung on the wall and put it to her ear.

              No dial tone.

              She depressed the switch a couple of times and, remarkably, got a dial tone on the fourth try.  She quickly dialed the number for the landline at Regina’s home.

              It rang a half dozen times before an irritated, “what?” snapped down the line.

              Forgoing any pleasantries, Emma simply said, “We have a ship coming into port.”

              Regina was silent for a few moments before stating, quite matter-of-factly, “We aren’t expecting anyone.”

              “No, we aren’t.”

              Emma heard the sound of blankets moving and a sleepy grumble of, “what is going on?” from Regina’s partner, Robin.  

              “I’ll be there soon, Sheriff,” Regina said before she abruptly ended the call.  

              Rolling her head back to loosen the knots she could feel forming in her neck, Emma spotted the clock that hung above Eric’s desk.  It read 3AM.  She turned to David, who was filling the coffee pot with water.

              “Why don’t you go home and get a couple of hours of rest before the clean-up begins?”

              “Are you sure?” he asked, but his hand was already in his pocket to retrieve the keys to the truck.

              Emma raised her brow before asking, “Would you rather stay and deal with Regina?”

              David laughed.

              “No way.  I’ll say hello to Henry for you!” He called over his shoulder as he headed out the door.  Emma took shameless advantage of her sister’s willingness to watch Henry when Emma worked.

              “Lucky man,” Eric remarked as he watched the truck pull away.

              “He’s been worried about Mary-Margaret all night,” Emma replied. She wrinkled her nose. His worry had made the truck smell like stale sweat.

              Eric finished preparing the coffee that David had start making.  

              “Is Ariel at home this evening?” Emma asked as the bitter smell of stale coffee started to fill the small office.  Eric’s wife, Ariel, was a mermaid.  She split her time between her family in the sea and life on land with Eric due to a bargain she’d struck with her father, King Triton, and Regina.  

              Part of the settled upon agreement between the parties in that deal was that Ariel would stop bringing any wayward sailors she rescued to Storybrooke.  Regina had become tired of erasing the memories of the hapless humans and having to arrange their ‘rescue’ away from Storybrooke. Eric had been one such shipwrecked sailor and the only one of Ariel’s rescues that had been allowed to stay.  But that only had been because Eric had proved oddly resistant to Regina’s memory manipulation and had wandered into town on his own two months after Emma had dropped him off on a beach near Jonestown.

              Eric chuckled.  “Of course not.  She informed me about the ship heading our way before they radioed in.”  Ariel, for whatever reason, loved to swim in rough seas.  “I asked her to keep an eye on the ship, just in the case the storm proves too much for them.  Though the Captain insists he is, and I quote, ‘a hell of a Captain.’”

              Emma scoffed as she poured Eric and herself some coffee.  Just as she was about to take her first sip, the smell of sulfur hit her nose.  A moment later, a puff of purple smoke filled the room. Regina stepped out of the smoke, dressed in a grey skirt suit and pointed black heels. It was nothing Emma would ever dream of wearing during a blizzard, but then again, she couldn’t travel via magic.  Immediately, Emma waved her hand in front of her face to dispel the stench of Regina’s magic, but it was no use.  A normal human wouldn’t be able to smell the hint of sulfur that remained in the air, but her enhanced sense of smell meant that she would be smelling it until the office was aired out.

              “What do you plan to do about this situation, Sheriff?” Regina was great at getting to the heart of the matter.

              Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  “I plan to let them dock, give them coffee, and ask them some questions.”

              Regina’s eyes narrowed.  “Why don’t you take them to Granny’s and buy them breakfast while you’re at it?  Whoever these people are, they are trespassers.”

              “I’m not going to arrest them and lock them up at the station, Regina,” Emma argued.  “Seeking a safe port during a storm isn’t a crime.”

              The mayor’s lips thinned.

              “I’m more curious as to how they got through your spell,” Emma continued.

              There was a map pinned on a wall in the Sheriff’s station that had the magical borders of Storybrooke outlined in bright red marker.  Emma mainly used it to mark trees in the forests, so she and her pack mates didn’t run beyond the limits of their territory during full moon runs, but she vaguely recalled that the coastal border of the spell extended about 45 miles away from the town’s shoreline.  

              Too far for the old radio in the harbormaster’s office to pick up the signal from boat unless it had already crossed through the spell’s barrier.  A fact she only knew because Regina had refused to allocate city funds to pay for a new radio and antenna at the lighthouse so the town could monitor the recreational boaters in the area.

              “You and I both, Miss Swan.”


End file.
